Short Ones
by EmaniaHilel
Summary: Short little one-shots, unrelated to each other, and in response to various song prompts. Some angst, some fluff, some silly. At least one a bit pwp-ish...All with Raven/Robin flavoring.
1. Remember the Time

**A/N:** So, what seems like an _awfully_ long time ago, there as this writing meme going around, asking authors to put their playlist on shuffle and write inspired by whatever song came on, only for so long as the song was playing. I am so highly inspired by music, I tried to do that (although, to be honest, I cheated sometimes by listening to the song until I got inspired, then restarting it to actually write. I sometimes didn't stop when the song stopped, either, if my inspiration hadn't been exhausted…I'm bad, I know…lol)

These and the ensuing chapters are the results. I will add to it if I ever try doing this again. Who knows.

What I'm going to do is number them and give you the name of the song that came on that inspired the one-shot.

 ** _Special A/N for 01:_** _I remembering hearing once that the comics did this thing where Raven died and was reborn a few years later. This isn't directly related to that, but…it could be, I guess?_

 ** _Short Ones  
By Em_**

 **01\. Remember the Time, Michael Jackson**

 _"_ _Do you remember the time / when we fell in love?"_

"Robin, let me pass."

He cocked his head to the side. "You really don't remember?" he asked curiously.

She sighed, just a small exultation of breath, but he could read the frustration in it. "You are being tiring."

His eyes opened wide, and then he laughed. "Oh yes, I can imagine I am." He leaned against the wall on his right, which did absolutely nothing for giving her space to pass. "I'm sure it's very tiring to be reminded of things you try so hard to forget."

She looked at him then, really looked at him. "If you understand that, why are you insisting on trying to make me remember?"

He smiled softly at her, "because it's important," he insisted, the amused tone in his voice gone. She started to shake her head and he stood up straight again, knowing instinctively she would try to get past him again. "It is, Rae," he leaned a little closer. "You know me," he said, his voice low and intimate. "You _love_ me."

She looked at him, the confusion plain in the shadows in her eyes for just a brief moment before she wiped her expression clean with considerable effort. "No," she shook her head. "I don't."


	2. Here With Me

_**Short Ones  
by Em**_

 **2\. Here With Me, Dido**

 _"I don't want to move a thing / it might change my memory."_

One of the benefits of being an empath (perhaps, one of the few benefits — not that she had ever seen it as such before) was being able to reach out and communicate with the remnants of a person's soul — those pieces — memories — left behind once someone has shed their mortal coil and the rest of their soul has moved on.

"You can't hide here forever, you know."

She looked up from the words on the page she had been reading from and smiled — really smiled. "Sure I can," she countered, putting aside the book. "Who says I can't?"

He returned her smile and approached closer, coming into better and better focus the closer he got. "Victor, and Kori, and Karen, and everyone else that loves you…they're all really worried about you, you know."

She waved a hand gracefully, dismissing his concern. "They'll get over it."

"Why don't you call them?"

She looked away, hiding her face with her hair, even if it was pointless at this point. "I can't," she admitted. "They wouldn't understand."

"That you continue to have conversations with your dead boyfriend?" he asked, a slight tinge of humor in his voice. "What's not to understand?" he asked, laughing. "The Titans have seen crazier," he pointed out.

She looked at him then, her eyebrows knit. "They'll believe me, but they won't understand," she said. "Robin, they'll…they'll insist I…"

He leaned a little closer to her, understanding already in his eyes, even if he made her say it. "They'll insist what?" he pressed.

"That I get over you." She sighed. "That I let you go."

He leaned back a little and crossed his arms in that way he always did. "You'll have to, eventually, you know."


	3. Through the Glass

_**Short Ones  
by Em**_

 **03\. Through the Glass, Stone Sour**

 _"I'm looking at you through the glass/don't know how much time has passed / all I know is that it feels like forever..."_

He watched her through the slightly frosted glass and realized he didn't feel the cold. It was easy to tell, just by looking at her bent over a book (it amused him to see that she still hadn't given in to the convenience of e-readers the way familiar things felt unexpectedly like home) how little time had touched her.

She was taller now (but she would never really be very tall), her hair was longer (just skimming her shoulders) and her fingernails (where she held her chin in her hands) were manicured and neat, although still short.

But she was still the same…

The concentration in her eyes as she read, the way she seemed to breathe slower than anyone else he'd ever known, the curve of her cheek, the lightly steaming mug just within reach of her left hand, the shape of her lips…

Still ageless.

It felt like forever since he'd seen her.

Yet, he thought about leaving. He could just turn away and not have to face her. She still didn't wear a watch, and unlike most everyone else inside the coffee shop, she didn't have a laptop, tablet, or cellphone on the table that would remind her of the time, and he knew she would lose time while reading a good book, drinking good tea…it could be nightfall before she realized he'd never shown up.

And he wouldn't have to face her.

He thought about turning around, ordering himself to tear his gaze away.

And just then, she looked up, her gaze hazy, still inward, until she turned and looked right at him, blinking him into focus.

She didn't call to him, or motion to him, or bide him enter - she just stared at him, her expression soft; somehow expectant and neutral at once. For what seemed like forever, they stared at each other through the plate glass, the swirls of the shop's logo fading into the background of their vision.

He knew she wouldn't follow him if he turned and walked away. She wouldn't judge him. No, but she wouldn't call him again, either.

Before he knew it, he was walking, turning towards the door, pulling it open, stomping the slush from his boots and walking into the warm shop. Her eyes followed him the whole way, finally turning upward when he stood in front of her table so their eyes remained locked on each other.

"Hi."

He sighed, and swallowed. "Hi."


	4. Ahora Quien

_**Short Ones  
by Em**_

 **04\. Ahora Quien, Marc Anthony**

 _"A quien van a engañar ahora tus brazos?/ a quien van a mentirle ahora tus labios?"_

"I told you—"

"I know you did," he interrupted her before she could finish the sentence. He didn't need to hear it again. He already had it etched in his memory, echoing.

She turned away from him, perhaps sensing that he needed time to compose himself; he couldn't hope that she needed time to compose herself, but he thought it.

He caught his own reflection in the mirror and wondered if he always had that stupid look in her presence. Surely, he didn't.

"So, what now?" he asked instead.

She paused in placing the purple leotard neatly on top of the cape on top of her pjs.

Odd that combination.

"Now, I walk away," she said, her voice low and steady.

"That's not what I meant," he chastised.

"I know," she sighed. She turned to face him unexpectedly and he caught a flash of something across her expression, but it was gone before he could name it. "You want to know where I'm going? What I'll be doing-?"

"Who," he interrupted her again, anger zesting his words like the smell of fire.

He could almost kid himself that it looked as if he'd physically wounded her, but he blinked and it was gone. Her shoulders were squared, her jaw tight.

Did he really want to hurt her? Did he really want to fight with her?

It was easier than pretending that it wasn't hurting.

"Who'll be next?" he asked, steeling his voice. "Who will you kiss, hold, whisper to in the dark?" He took a step towards her and felt the anger rise when she didn't back away. "Who's bed will you leave with that smell of lavender and vanilla?" he pressed. "Who will get to watch you get dressed in the morning? If it's not me, Raven…who?"

When he was done, he was breathing hard and so close to her, she had to tilt her head up to look at him. He could see the biting retort in her eyes. He felt the intake of breath as she prepared to speak, but something died in the seconds between breath and words, and her eyes were almost sad when she finally spoke.

"Goodbye Robin."


	5. Erotica

**_Short Ones  
by Em_**

 ** _05\. Erotica, Madonna_**

 _"If I take you from behind / push myself into your mind / when you least expect it / will you try and reject it?"_

It was expected - it was the game they were playing.

Yet, there was a moment where she felt lost - like being suspended in the air. No, that moment before you realized you weren't suspended, you were falling.

She pushed him against the wall, pressed his cheek against the cold marble and held it there with the hand that wasn't working his shirt free of his pants and delving into the warmth against his lower back.

Her hands must've been cold because she heard him hiss, but instead of pulling away from her touch, he leaned into it.

And some part of her knew he could end it when he wanted - without her powers she was no match in upper body strength or in dexterity. He was letting her do this...

...her hands trailed around his quivering abdomen, raising to his chest, pressing her breasts against his back, feeling the folds of his shirt bunched up between his back and her breasts as her nails raked between his pectorals.

She was so close to him, she had a glimpse of his memory - experienced him remembering her words all those weeks ago when they started the game:

 _"_ _I don't think you know what pain is, do you Robin?"_ she had asked. _"I don't think you've gone that way..."_

The feel of something hot and thick and red running the gamut of his abs ahead of her hands brought her back to the present and she brought her lips to his shoulder, her teeth cradling the bit of flesh there, pressing it between, her tongue darting out to taste his sweat. Her reward, his groan of pleasure.

Unsaid, but they were close enough and he could hear it if he tried...

 _'_ _I only hurt the ones I love...'_


	6. For Once In My Life

**_Short Ones  
by Em_**

 ** _06\. For Once In My Life, Michael Buble_**

 _"For once I can touch what my heart used to dream of / long before I knew / someone warm like you..."_

They both stopped when the horn and drum intro started from the band and even though they were in different parts of the ballroom (she was talking to Karen and Victor and he was helping Timmy with his tie) they found each other as if they'd always been aware of where the other was.

Neither Victor and Karen nor Timmy seemed to mind when they left their respective conversations and started toward the center of the room just as the singer stepped up to the microphone on the platform.

 _"_ _For once in my life, I've got someone who needs me..."_ the singer crooned. _"Someone I've needed so long..."_

He smiled at her, the joy reaching up to make his eyes twinkle like gems and even she smiled in return.

"Mrs. Grayson," he greeted.

"Mr. Grayson," she answered.

"Shall we dance?" he asked, and the entire ballroom was enthralled with the love crackling like a live wire between them.

"I'd love to," she answered and the ballroom was so silent that even despite the singer continuing to sing and the big band continuing to play, nearly everyone heard it.


	7. Holding Out For a Hero

_**Short Ones  
by Em**_

 ** _07\. Holding Out For A Hero, Frou Frou_**

 _"I can feel his approach like the fire in my blood..."_

They didn't count on The Bond. They might have wondered why she was so still, in such constant meditation, her eyes always closed despite the fact that she was in a room full of enemies who were only waiting for the word to kill her. A room full of enemies that knew her weaknesses, expected the way she could fight, prepared for it.

She couldn't get away from them: that she had accepted within the first few moments of her captivity.

They weren't expecting The Bond, however. They couldn't, since no one but himself and the other Titans knew about it.

And even the other Titans didn't know the extent of it.

No, her enemies might think she was meditating, trying to gather strength or magic or something mundane like that.

They'd never guess what she was really doing - they would never imagine that she was actually just waiting. Waiting for the one she knew would always come.

And in the distance, coming ever faster toward her, she felt his presence - the fire of his anger, the warmth of his concern and the cold of his determination.

She almost smiled.


	8. Slept So Long

**_Short Ones_**

 ** _by Em_**

 ** _08\. Slept So Long, Jay Gordon_**

 _"I've slept so long without you / it's tearing me apart, too / how'd it get_ _this far?"_

It was like waking up, like the sudden awareness that assails one's senses upon emerging from water or dreams.

Like - at the chance of sounding cliche'd - the very thin gauze covering her eyes was peeled back, exposing the world's true colors.

No, not just her eyes. Every sense was awakened. Her skin reacted to the very nearness of his warmth, her hearing was attuned to the lilt of his voice, she could smell the scent of him even after he'd left the room and touching him felt like electricity running through her every nerve.

Touching him made her come alive.

But being touched by him...being touched by him made her die inside.

She couldn't express it, even when she tried. Somehow, she knew saying, _"I've slept so long without you,"_ was inadequate, even for someone as perceptive as he was.

He understood her anyway. She saw it in his eyes (she saw _her hell_ in his eyes).

Sometimes, she loved him so much she hated him.


	9. Somebody That I Used To Know

**_Short Ones_**

 ** _By Em_**

 ** _09- Somebody That I Used To Know_**

 _"But you didn't have to cut me off/ Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing..."_

The first week after she left, he made it a point to ignore the remnants of her presence in the apartment; or, the big things, anyway (the clothes hung neatly and by color in the right side of the closet, the Ed Hopper painting in the entryway wall, the vintage record player sitting atop the Blue Ray player in the media cabinet that they went all the way to Santa Monica to find) were easy to ignore -- looking through the mail kept his eyes facing down as he entered the place, and he usually watched the news rather than actually putting in any movies into the player, and it wasn't as if he ever had to look at the right side of the closet for anything. (The small things were quite another matter and would frequently catch him by surprise; sleepy fingers brushing against her toothbrush in the cup on the sink, or stepping on her slippers at the foot of the bed, her robe fluttering everytime he closed the bathroom door or the small, star shaped earings she wore most weekends winking in the overhead light from atop the dresser being just a few examples. He couldn't ignore the little things that were a subtle reminder of the haste with which she left, and maybe that was worse.)

By the second week, he'd given up all pretense, and when the unexpected knock came at the front door, he was sitting on the edge of his (their) bed staring at a midnight blue slip dress hanging in the closet and wondering when the last time he'd seen her wear it was while one of her records played from the living room (some funky sounding blues-contemporary mix with a male vocalist that sounded something like an unemotional Sting). When he opened the door to find her (their) friends on the other side, he was surprisingly unsurprised.

"We're here to pick up her stuff," Victor greeted without preamble.

Richard nodded, unemotionally. "I figured," he replied, taking a step back from the door and looking at each of their faces as they entered. Most of them (except for Victor, and notably Karen) were closed off and neutral with only Kori's seeming disappointed.

Garfield, for one, looked somewhat apologetic, mumbling, "Sorry, man," as he followed the others inside.

They all carried boxes and suitcases.

They carried out their task in relative silence, working in perfect tandem like a well-oiled machine. Karen tackled the bedroom while Kori took the bathroom. Victor packed up the media center and other miscellany while Garfield packed up some items from the kitchen and the hall closet.

Richard watched from a seat on the counter and thought that it was almost as if they'd practiced the whole thing -- the way they would practice fight plans.

After awhile, Kori exited the bathroom with a full box, dropped it off by the door, and went to the bedroom to help Karen.

He almost didn't notice it when the music stopped as Victor carefully put the record back in its sleeve and packed it with the others. Their eyes met across the room, and Victor, finished with his task, righted himself and walked slowly to him.

"We're almost finished here," he said, even though Richard hadn't once seen him check on anyone else's progress. "Do you want to look through the boxes, make sure we didn't grab anything we shouldn't have by mistake?"

Richard was strangely surprised at the question, but eventually, he shook his head. "No," he answered. "It doesn't matter." They were just things, afterall. What did he care if she ended up unpacking a DVD he watched instead of her? (She'd probably toss it if she did, anyway).

"Alright," Victor said after a moment, turning around to walk back toward the living room.

"It didn't have to be this way," Richard said to his back.

Victor stopped, turned around. He looked surprised or shocked or something. "Yeah, it kinda did."

The others had reunited[wc] in the living room by then, each carrying their own burden of boxes and he felt almost like he was facing a firing squad.

"It wasn't anyone's fault," Kori spoke up, taking a step towards him. "She knows that," she assured him, then, taking a look around at the others, amended, "We all do." Seeing that it didn't appear she was going to be getting any back up in this department from the others, she continued. "Sometimes, things just end," she said almost helplessly.

Karen stepped up to her and put a hand on her shoulder, but her expression didn't soften.

"She didn't have to cut me off," Richard said, sounding plaintive even to his own ears. "She even changed her number."

"Did you expect she'd sit around and wait for you to call her?" Karen asked, her tone sharp. "Maybe invite you over to her new place for tea and show you around?"

"No," Richard answered. "I guess not, but she's acting like we're strangers -- worse than strangers -- like we were *nothing*."

"Why does it matter?" Garfield, in one of his strangely perceptive moments, asked.

"She said we would still be friends," Richard offered.

"You're the one that let her go," Karen pointed out. She started to step towards him, finger raised, but Victor stopped her with a hand on her shoulder and she swallowed the rest of her admonishments.

"She needs time, Richard," Kori offered, stepping in front of Karen and Victor. She looked at him, holding her own hands at chest level the way she always did when she was uncomfortable. "Give her some time."

He didn't know what to say to that, so he didn't say anything at all, but his eyes found Victor's and he could see the end in them.

Victor broke contact first, hefting several boxes filled with records and record players and movies. Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked out the door. The others followed, carrying pieces of Raven away with them


	10. Hay Amores

10\. Hay Amores, Shakira

 _"Ay, mi piel! Que no haría yo por ti / por tenerte un segundo, alejados del mundo, y cerquita de mi?"_

He needed to be near her.

It was an ache underneath his skin, like an itch he couldn't scratch or a pain he couldn't rub away.

Like she was a part of him, like being without her meant ripping his skin right from his flesh and every minute apart was the anguish of living in the world exposed down to the layers of muscle and sinew. Raw.

He blamed it on the bond - on the thing that had saved his sanity and probably his life - and he only occasionally wondered what it must feel like for her. But only occasionally, because that meant he thought about the other thing too and he never liked to think about it.

Thinking about why they _weren't_ together was worse, a million times worse than simply being without her.

He'd suffer through a lifetime of living without his skin if he didn't have to remember why they couldn't be together.


	11. Down With the Sickness

11\. Down With the Sickness, Disturbed

 _"You've woken up the demon in me"_

One of the men in the garish costume and makeup raised their heads, his eyes expressing the instinctual fear everyone feels - the ancient fight or flight instinct was kicking in even if he wasn't quite sure what he heard that made him so afraid - what he felt.

"Can you feel that?" Jack, next to him, asked in an almost reverent whisper.

Dug at the window went still, like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming semi. "Oh, shit," and his tone was almost dejected, as if he had given up already.

By now, he knew he _had_ felt something, the anger and malevolence was hard to miss. "What the hell is it, man?"

Before anyone could answer (even if they knew what to answer), the door burst inward as if it had exploded from the inside.

They were so surprised, she was inside and in the middle of the room, floating four feet off the ground, her hair lifted by an unnatural wind and her eyes a dark blood red, crackling power before they realized it.

Humans don't move like that.

"Where is he?"


	12. The Way I Am

12\. The Way I Am

 _"'Cause I love you more than / I could ever promise / and you take me the way I am."_

It was painful, the way the pins and needles in her foot was painful when she tried to walk after it had fallen numb.

Painful the way the heated ceramic of a mug of tea was painful against her too cold hand.

It was good, too.

The way unexpectedly walking into a room where someone was baking chocolate chip cookies was good.

Good, like finally finding just the right place to fit the odd shaped piece of a puzzle.

Like his favorite cable knit sweater that he draped around her shoulders when it was cold outside.

Like reaching the best part in her favorite book.

 _Real_ good.

And that made it terrifying most of all.

Like the understanding in his eyes.

Terrifying, like the acceptance of his shoulder silently bumping against hers in the elevator, his knee brushing against hers on the couch.

Like the way the safety she found in his hand in hers, their fingers entwined was terrifying.


	13. Feeling Good

**13\. Feeling Good**

" _Oh, freedom is mine, and I know how I feel…"_

Much as she had the day of her 16th birthday, the day _after_ her 16th birthday found her greeting the sun on the Western side of the Titan Tower roof.

Much as he had on the day of her 16th birthday, Robin joined her, this time, before the sun had fully crested the horizon.

Unlike the day of her birthday, he approached, but didn't speak.

And after everything they'd gone through, after everything he'd done, after everything she'd experienced, she didn't feel even the tiniest bit hesitant to let her head loll back as the breeze picked up, letting her eyes close and letting the emotion wash over her - the warmth spreading inside her at the beauty of the dawn visible plainly in the lines of her face, the quirk of her lips. He watched her as her fingers splayed at her side, feeling something he took for granted - marveled at the openness of her expression as her eyes opened when the sun finally did peek over the edge of the horizon and she opened her eyes to stare at the world around her.

He'd never been so incredibly aware of what pure joy felt like as he did in that moment, watching Raven.

A gull appeared in the sky above them, shrieking as it dipped and rode the current of air, diving into the crash of the ocean and raising its wings again and Raven followed its movement, enthralled.

"This might be a stupid question," he finally spoke after a few moments. "But, how do you feel?"

She closed her eyes again, the soft smile still playing around her lips, her face dipped toward the warmth of the sun.

It took her a few moments to respond, and when she did, it wasn't with what he thought it'd be.

"Have you ever heard Nina Simone's music?"

He blinked a moment and thought. "Yeah, sure," he answered.

She turned her head toward him and opened her eyes. "This old world is a new world and a bold world for me," she quoted.

He wracked his brains for a moment to think of what song it was she was quoting, but it didn't come to her right away.

"It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life, for me," she quoted again, a warm smile slowly spreading across her lips the way the sun spread around them.

He smiled back, unable to do otherwise in the face of her joy.

"And I'm feelin' good."

x-x-x

 **Original Upload Date:** 10/30/17


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